


A Tainted Rain

by TeddyTR



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ending with fluff and happiness, Hurt/Comfort, Infection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-22
Updated: 2011-03-22
Packaged: 2017-11-28 04:55:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeddyTR/pseuds/TeddyTR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was one of the rare occasions, when John's brain processed information quicker than Sherlock's. Stop right there!" He shouted, one hand stretched out for emphasis. No," Sherlock whispered as he stared at him with wide eyes. NO!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Tainted Rain

**Author's Note:**

> I just love torturing poor John, I'm a bad person.  
> Special thanks to my fantastic beta, her sister and friend for the help and support! Here we go, girls! :)

It was one of the rare occasions, when John’s brain processed information quicker than Sherlock’s.

„Stop right there!” he shouted, one hand streched out for emphasis.

The desperation in his voice made Sherlock freeze on the hallway. It didn’t take a second for him to realize what was happening. 

„No,” Sherlock whispered as he stared at John with wide eyes. „NO!”

***

„I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

„This sentence never gets old, is it.”

„Yes, well, you could listen to me sometimes.”

„Come on, John, he’s in there. It’s at least twenty minutes until the police arrive. They’re so slow.”

„Fine, but be care-” 

Jauntily, like he was flying, Sherlock stood and walked towards the old warehouse.

„-ful,” John grunted as he followed the detective.

He didn’t like it, and it wasn’t the usual ’let’s not take unnecessary risks and end up in the hospital’ disapproval. Something about this criminal put an unpleasant feeling into John’s stomach. They called him ’The Pestilence’, he manipulated with viruses and wogs. Before his mind cracked he was a biologist so he was damn good at it. 

At first the police didn’t even notice him. Just when there were a suspicious amount of victims sick with a strange flu, they started to suspect a connection. It turned out that The Pestilence made a new virus from influenza type A with gene mutation. It had a very quick runoff, only three or four days. The infected would show the symptoms almost immediately after the virus was in. Unbreakable fever, hallucination, inflammation of the respiratory system, massive loss of fluids by vomiting, in many cases, death. The virus’ only weak point was that it could only spread by infected water. The most logic move would have been to put it in the city’s water system, so the police checked it right away. London’s water remained clean and that was the creepiest part for John. He didn’t like irrational criminals. It meant they are mentally ill hence capable of anything. Sherlock said, obviously it wasn’t The Pestilence’s intention to cause an epidemic. He liked the part when he chose his victims. Liked to watch their eyes widening in horror as the first symptoms showed. That’s why he made it to be unnaturally quick…

John shook his head. There was no time for his worries, not to mention Sherlock couldn’t care less. The game was on. That’s the only thing that mattered to him. 

When John caught up to him, Sherlock slowly opened the door. They saw a hallway with rooms and in the end, there was a big storage hall. After a short dialogue of the eyes, John started to check the rooms on the left while Sherlock took the right side of the hallway.

John liked the feeling when his senses became sharper with adrenalin. He heard the small rattle what Sherlock didn’t and he started to the main room before the detective could have reacted.

„Freeze!” he shouted at the shallow figure at the other corner of the storage room. 

Several things happened in the next moment. John saw the man turning to him with a horrible smile on his face and a hand on the wall. He heard Sherlock’s closing footsteps behind him and his mind screamed as it became clear what was going to happen. He spinned around, letting The Pestilence escape trough the back door. The criminal was not his priority. Sherlock was.

„Stop right there!” He bellowed. A blink later, the fire alarm set off. For two things John was extremely grateful. One was the sight of Sherlock frozen in the hallway. He stopped. The other was the fact that in case of fire, only the goods in the main storage would need water as protection. Thus, Sherlock would be safe. 

For a second, John closed his eyes and let relief wash over him. It was funny how he couldn’t care less about the bout of influenza until Sherlock was fine. He was way too skinny to lose his precious fluids. He was torn away from his thoughts by the voice of the detective mentioned.

„NO!” 

John didn’t expect the horror that was on his face. Suddenly his former relief disappeared. He was afraid that Sherlock would step into this pouring rain of virus any minute, so he paced quickly back to him.

„Stay away,” he said when he reached him. „Be careful not to touch me.”

„John…” 

John loved that when Sherlock found no words, he would use his name as the expression of his feelings. Yet, he didn’t like it this time at all.

„It’s fine, it’s only flu. We should call Lestrade. A special squad will be needed here and an isolated ambulance for me.” The other man kept staring him. No reaction.

„Sherlock? Sherlock, I’m sorry, really, but there’s no time to panic. The symptoms will show soon.” Talk of the devil, he thought as the first waves of fever hit him. Thankfully, Sherlock seemed to regain a bit of control and dialled the DI, quickly explaining the situation.

John felt he needed air, so he staggered outside. Sherlock followed him in silence.

„Wow, this kicks,” the doctor huffed as he sat. His fever was already quite high, and he started to get problems with breathing. A short attack of coughs came and Sherlock moved instantly to his side.

„Keep… away…” John choked. Sherlock literally snarled in response, but did as he was told.

„Sorry,” John said when the coughing stopped. „ I’m always scolding you about not being careful and look at me.”

„No.” Sherlock’s voice was low and broken, he sounded like a stranger. „This is my fault. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even be here.”

„Oh, come on; don’t make it look like I’m a puppet or something! I came because I decided to.” John felt the need to say something more. Something about how he really felt. Maybe it was his instinct to tell a kind of a goodbye, just in case.

„And I… I’m glad we met.” Sherlock’s eyes snapped up to him. „Before you it was… lonely. I never thanked you.”

„John, stop it.”

„But I want you to know. I enjoy living in Baker Street. It’s fun. Even when you’re playing on your violin at 2 p.m. and leave all kinds of human bodyparts everywhere and-”

„Stop! Don’t you dare to even think about it!” 

„Fine, I’m just telling you.”

„Tell me later.”

„Okay.”

„You promise?”

„Yeah, I promise.” The last word cracked as John felt worse with every passing second. Another wave of deep coughs shook him. Sherlock gritted his teeth.

„What’s taking them so damn long?” he hissed, eyes searching the street.

Several minutes later, they could finally hear the sirens. By the time the ambulance arrived, John was hardly conscious. He felt the fever taking over. It was only matter of time when his coughs would become retching. With a blurry vision, he saw that Sherlock was stopped when he wanted to ride with him. He took in his flatmate’s bewildered expression before falling into a haze.

***

It was almost ridiculos how Sherlock’s world could fall apart in a blink of an eye. One second, he feels the exciting pleasure of the chase, and pride, even, as John jumps like a lion, pointing his gun at the criminal. Then, just a moment later, he’s broken. Everything’s in little, incoherent pieces and he can’t pull it together. He wants to dart into the rain, pick up John and run with him as far as possible. The doctor reads his mind and moves before he could. He knows with his head that he can’t touch him, but it’s still driving him crazy. He wants to hold him close until those detestable coughs fade. Lestrade is slow and John is babbling and it has the taste of goodbye. Sherlock refuses it. Refuses even the possibility. Refuses the world. There is no world without his John. That’s why he will be alright. Cause the bloody world stops existing if he doesn’t and it’s impossible.

Eventually, they arrive. Sherlock stand to go with John, obviously. Lestrade stops him. He wants to kill him with one blow. He’s prattling on about infection and stuff, but it doesn’t make sense. He has to be with John, make sure the idiotic doctors take care of him well.

It takes three police officers to hold him down and the ambulance leaves. He thinks he’s shouting but he’s not sure. Nothing’s in control. 

Then, one sentence breaks trough his madness.

„We caught him a couple of streets away.”

Suddenly, Sherlock is calm and organised.

„Let me speak with him.”

He’s cold as ice. The Pestilence will regret infecting John. He’ll regret being born.

***

John started throwing up two hours ago. The intensity of it still kept growing, so he guessed it would get worse. Only he couldn’t imagine how. He had already gave out everything he got and in the last thirty minutes, his body decided to let go of other kinds of fluids, bile first of all. 

Masked figures moved in and out of his sight, sometimes they spoke, but John couldn’t comprehend what they said. When he didn’t vomit and didn’t cough, he used all of his energy to breath. The inflammation was damn quick too. If it wasn’t an insane biologist infecting random people, he would say he’s a very gifted scientist.

Another two hours later, there’s some kind of commotion outside, even John can hear that. Someone tears the door open.

„I said it’s fine! I had the vaccination! I was the first one to have it!”

„But they said-”

„I don’t care, let me in!”

John felt like laughing. He gathered strenght and spoke.

„Sh-sherlock… be… behave…” 

There was silence for a second. Then he heard the sound of hasty steps approaching his bed. He forced his eyes open. They met with a pair of glistering, grey stones.

„John.”

„You… you shouldn’t… shouldn’t be…”

„It’s okay, John. I’m immune now.” 

„How?”

„The police had caught The Pestilence, well, Brandon Emery and he gave me the parameters of the virus. It didn’t take much to alter the regular type A vaccine. The hospital staff is being inoculated right now.”

„He… gave you?”

„We had a little chat.”

„Sherlock… you di… didn’t…”

„He’s alive, if that’s what you’re asking. He might not be grateful for it though.” 

John intended to chuckle. It came out as a new wave of hacking coughs. Sherlock moved closer, one hand on John’s shoulder, the other placed on his cheek. His skin felt cool, John leant into his touch. The coughing didn’t want to stop and he felt another portion of who-knows-what coming up. A slight panic filled him. I’m gonna vomit on Sherlock. How perfect. But it was as if the detective had read his mind, because by the time he needed it, a bedpan appeared before him. It was something green this time, John lost interest in medical defining long ago.

„Sorry,” he rasped.

„Don’t be stupid.” Sherlock pulled a chair beside the bed, sitting as close as possible.

„You… don’t have to…”

„Shut up, John. I’m staying and I didn’t ask for anyone’s opinion about it.”

John managed a smile before the next spasm.

***

Two whole days had already passed and John was in no better condition. The doctors said it was expectable, since he was weakening because of the loss of nutriment. They tried everything to feed him and could only reach short-term successes. What went in with the infusion came out after some time and anything they put in orally came out right away. That applied to febrifuge too.

Sherlock was told that it was okay, it would be okay, because John was strong and had a poweful will, and of course he knew that, but still. With every retch, he felt his own interiors cramp. John was in so much pain. He swayed in and out consciousness. Sherlock kept talking to him and his voice seemed to help a bit. Also, he was the only one that managed to push some water down the doctor’s throat and make it stay in, by stroking his hair and whispering ’no barfing, John’ into his ears. Sometimes, John even smiled.

On the third night, John finally fell asleep. As Sherlock listened to his rattling breath, he sank into a nap too. He woke to a terrible sound. John jerked up on the bed, dumping specks of blood onto his own lap.

„John!”

He quickly moved to sit behind the doctor, while pushing the button to call the nurses.

„John, breathe! Slower, come on.” His hand ran wide circles on John’s back, who tried hard doing what he was told.

A nurse showed up, she ckecked John’s pulse and the infusion.

„I’ll get a clean sheet.”

„Wait, won’t you give him something?”

„I’m sorry, but all we got is already in the infusion. As for this is a virus, there’s nothing more we can do.”

„But he’s coughing blood.”

„Doctor Perry said it was to be expected with a coughing and inflammation like this.”

„Fuck you!” Sherlock couldn’t help his anger. The nurse seemed to understand it.

„I’m sorry,” she said quietly before she disappeared behind the door.

„Tha-t was i-impo… lite,” came the shallow voice from below.

„Fuck you too,” Sherlock whispered into the other men’s shoulder as he pulled him to his chest.

„Sorry… for sc-scaring you…” John’s head lolled onto his upper arm.

„’M… so… tired…” 

„Try to sleep.” Sherlock began to move away, intending to lay him down, but John let out a groan.

„What is it? Does it hurt?”

„No… stay…”

„You mean, like this?”

„Yeah… comfortable.”

John sank lower to his chest, resting his head under Sherlock’s chin.

„I agree,” Sherlock hummed.

John didn’t even stir when the sheets were changed. He slept soundly until morning.

***

„John, it’s time.”

„What? Already?”

„Yes, here. Eat up.”

„But I had a half chicken only two hours ago!”

„I don’t really care.”

„Sherlock!”

„At least eight meals a day for two weeks. Doctor Perry’s orders.”

„You hate Doctor Perry.”

„That’s not part of the problem right now. You need to regain weight.”

„Yes, and I’m doing everything I can, but I can’t eat this.” 

Sherlock let out an annoyed huff.

„Fine, you get one more hour.”

„Thank you.”

„But you drink a tea now.”

„Argh… Okay.”

„With extra milk and extra sugar.”

„Milk? You bought milk?”

„Had it delivered, yes.”

„Do I have to get infected with a life-threatening virus to get you buy milk?”

„No, and I would prefer you to stop doing things like that. You scared the hell out of me, you know.” Guilt washed through John as Sherlock told him this, again.

„Sor-”

„And if you try to apologize one more time, you’ll never see your favourite jumper again.”

„What, the red one?”

„Precisely.”

„But that’s your favourite.”

„You’re missing my point.”

„I’m not. I understood. Now, would you like some tea too?”

„That would be good, thank you. And after that, we can discuss how much you love living with me.” 

John almost dropped the kettle.

„What?”

„You promised.”

„I… hell, I did, didn’t I.” 

A wide grin appeared on Sherlock’s face.

„Not as if you can tell me anything new, but I like to be flattered.”

„Obviously,” John shot back, mimicing Sherlock’s tone.

„And now that I bought milk, I’m more amazing than ever, aren’t I.”

„Oh, shut up.”


End file.
